To Bear And Keep The Light Alive
by authoressnebula
Summary: Post 5x14 and the 2010 Winter Olympics: So maybe it's a silly tradition. So maybe they've got other, bigger things to worry about. But right now, Dean thinks the Olympics may be just what they need.


_A/N: This'll spoil you not just for the episode 5x14, but also for the opening ceremony to the 2010 Vancouver Winter Olympics. Which, if you haven't had a chance to watch yet, go online and find it. You won't regret it._

* * *

It was while flipping through channels that he heard about it. He'd forgotten that this year was the fourth year, and that it was around this time of the year. Due to start in twenty minutes according to the channel hosting it, and Dean stared for a little bit longer at the screen, not really paying attention. Watching it seemed stupid when everything else was going on. It would last for a few hours, and there was no promise it would even be good, except for the fact that it was kinda a big deal. But still, there really wasn't any reason to watch it.

And he was tired. Physically, mentally, deep in his soul aching from it tired. He'd caught himself last night going outside and staring at the heavens for a few hours, desperate to say a single word. His leaving the house had been first a way to try and get his brother's screams out of his head, because his gut-deep response was to fly into the panic room and save Sammy. He couldn't save Sam from Sam, though. Well, save Sam from what had happened to him, because this hadn't been Sam's fault. Castiel hadn't been able to fight back, so what chance did Sam have?

But when he'd stepped outside, the urge to call out and shout yes as loud as he could burned inside of him. He'd been so close to giving in, to giving up, and there was a part of him that still wanted to go outside and whisper it, just to see how closely Michael was listening.

Still, they'd watched the ceremony four years ago. He'd watched the one before in 2002 alone, though he _had_ called Sam and despite being states away and with a wall of issues and hurt between them, they'd still managed to hold a phone call for the length of the ceremony. They'd watched the one before that together, and the one before that, and it was tradition. It was what they'd always done.

And honestly, Dean needed to see his brother. Needed Sam to see him and know that he hadn't been abandoned. He'd been down there several times already today, but Sam had finally passed out, so there hadn't been a I-see-you-thanks-for-being-there type of moment.

So as stupid as the idea was that his brain was putting together, he made his way downstairs. Castiel was leaning against the wall next to the door, his hand on his stomach. "He awake?" Dean asked softly, before frowning. "You okay?"

"I don't know...and no," Castiel replied, grimacing. "I haven't checked on him in awhile. I'm in pain."

It took two seconds to catch on, and when he did, Dean couldn't help but grin. "Stomach catchin' up with you, Hamburglar?" he asked.

Castiel's face twisted again, but this in confusion. "I don't-"

"Understand that reference, yeah, I know," Dean said, and for a moment amusement and fondness swelled up inside. It was gone as soon as his eyes shifted over to the door, and he felt as empty as Famine had said he really was. He closed his eyes and fought to keep from going upstairs and back outside.

No. No, he was getting Sam and they were gonna watch the stupid ceremony like they always had, dammit. He opened his eyes and pushed himself forward, not even checking through the peep-hole first before opening the door and stepping through.

The room was dark save for the light shining through the upper hole, the fan swirling lazily around it. The bed underneath it was vacant, and after a quick moment Dean found his brother curled up against the wall. His knees were pulled up this chest and his eyes were shut, shivering once but not moving. When the door was gently shut Sam opened his eyes, then frowned. "Dean?" he rasped. "What're you doin'?"

"Checking to make sure you're okay," Dean answered honestly. Sam had been bluntly honest with him yesterday concerning the blood affecting him, then later concerning his need to get to Bobby's and the panic room even while he was still high. He'd also insisted on being strapped down, but Dean had refused. Handcuffing Sam to the sink fixture had been hard enough.

"How you feeling?" Dean asked, reminding himself he had about ten minutes before the ceremony started. He made his way over to Sam and crouched down next to him. Sam's eyes fluttered shut when Dean reached out and brushed sweat-damp hair from his brother's face. "Ready to get out of here?"

Sam shook his head, but it wasn't frantically. Exhausted, tired, as weary as Dean was. "I should stay down here some more," Sam said, and that told Dean that it was over. The shivers matched with Sam's chilled skin, the sweat having evaporated and leaving him cold. Not addicted trembling, just regular cold shivers. "You should've tied me down."

"Didn't need to," Dean said quietly. Then, "C'mon," taking Sam's elbows and pulling him up. Sam stumbled slightly as he rose, and Dean caught him around his middle.

"Where're we goin'?" Sam asked. The door opened before they reached it, Castiel already waiting. "Dean?"

"Upstairs to the sofa," Dean said. To Castiel he said, "You ever thrown up before?"

Castiel and Sam both frowned, but when the angel shook his head Sam's frown evened out. "How many did he have?" he asked softly.

Dean snorted. "He said he lost count."

"Past three hundred," Castiel said, before he clutched at his stomach. "Would throwing up help?"

"Unless you know another way of emptying your stomach," Dean said. Castiel grimaced once more before nodding, then vanished.

"Poor guy," Sam said. "Not envying him at the moment."

Dean made a sound of agreement. Sam was still shivering, so he nudged his sibling towards the stairs. "Famine was pretty strong," he said. "I mean, to bamboozle an angel like that? Takes a lot of power. Doubt anyone else could've withstood that."

Sam stopped halfway up the stairs and threw a look at Dean. His eyes looked sunken, deep circles that were planning on have circles of their own. "Subtlety isn't your thing," he said.

Before he turned back towards the stairs again, though, Dean was pretty certain there'd been a flash of gratitude in his brother's eyes. He felt his own lips slide into a half smile before he hurried to catch up with Sam. Kid looked as weak as a kitten and if he fell, it'd be spectacular.

Bobby was off somewhere with a fellow hunter in town, leaving the house to the boys. Dean helped Sam over to the sofa and made sure he was seated before switching the television back on. Two minutes left on the clock, and already the stupid theme song was playing, blaring trumpets and all. "Lamest song ever," Dean complained, because it was what he did.

When Sam's return line wasn't forthcoming, Dean glanced over at his brother. "You're agreeing with me?" he asked. "C'mon, you love the official song they adopted to play during the commercials."

Sam raised his eyebrows at him. "The Olympics?"

Dean shrugged. "S'February," he answered. "We've never missed an opening ceremony before." The one time they'd almost missed it, Sam had been a teenager, and he'd thrown a fit about it that had rivaled his argument with Dad over Stanford. Hell hath no fury like a teenager, and even after having gone to hell Dean could still say that and mean it.

Sam shifted uneasily on the sofa. "Sure I should be up here?" he asked softly. "I mean, I don't know if I'm clean yet, since we never really got to the clean part before."

"The fact that you're even asking tells me everything I need to know," Dean said. He grabbed the blanket from the easy chair and draped it over his brother. Sam clutched at it from underneath the fabric with a small smile. Definite gratitude from his brother, and not just for the blanket.

A pause of silence occurred before the announcers came on and the song played again. Then, "There's nothing wrong with the song."

Something inside of Dean untwisted at the words, and even without a blanket he felt warm. For the first time in a long time, Dean didn't feel exhausted. "Says you," he snorted, but he was pretty certain his smile was giving him away.

The elaborate entrance through the Olympic rings was approved of by them both, and Dean made various comments concerning all the tribes. Sam's eyes lit up like they hadn't in a long time, and despite Dean's half-hearted protests began to describe and explain about the various tribes that were all being featured. Seeing his brother excited left Dean feeling a little more energetic inside than he had before, and he deliberately mispronounced things just to aggravate his brother.

The nations filed out, and while they were both equally impressed with certain countries having appeared at all, Dean professed more love for the costumes that the girls bearing the signs were wearing. Sam rolled his eyes but grinned, and Dean outright laughed for the first time in months. A few of the country's outfits left Dean's eyes wide and comments ready to roll off his tongue, but a single finger pointed at him by Sam left him silent on the matter. (Though he knew Sam had been equally as blinded by one of the country's outfits. Some colors just weren't meant to be thrown together like that, and Dean wasn't a fashion consultant in the slightest.) They both hollered and cheered when the United States came out, and kept the applause going when Canada came out.

The various singers didn't really impress Dean, but he had to admit the other performances were outstanding. Sam stared in awe as the floor shifted and changed, as each part of Canada was represented. He looked more at peace then Dean had seen in a long time, and Dean couldn't help but glance at Sam more often then he did the ceremony. He'd forgotten how much he'd pushed at Sam for that smile all those years ago, how much Sam's happiness had meant to him. Lately he'd been more focused on keeping Sam's life that the littler things hadn't really happened.

But he'd forgotten how much his little brother's happiness affected him. When Sam was happy Dean felt like he'd done something right, because Sam was safe and smiling and there wasn't anything to worry about. It left Dean happy, too.

The punk fiddlers were amazing, Dean had to admit that. The slam poet was incredible, and he let Sam go off into explaining how slam poetry was different than other poetry, content to just let Sam's brain do what it did best.

By the time k.d. lang came on, the ceremony had been on for some time. Sam wasn't shivering anymore, but he was leaning against Dean, his head tucked up on Dean's shoulder. He'd been blinking blearily for awhile, wrung out from the long night before, but he perked up when he realized who was singing. "I love k.d. lang," Sam said softly.

On screen, the audience in the stadium filled with lights to match the expanding star-like glow on the floor. "I know," Dean replied, voice equally as soft. The song had been done to death, but he had to admit, her take on Cohen's "Hallelujah" was beautiful in its own right. It was just soft and slow enough to match the peaceful, uplifting, hopeful feeling the Olympics were supposed to idealize. Yet it was also passionate enough to be inspiring.

Maybe it was why the Olympics had always meant so much to them. The summer ones were heralded with just as much joy as the winter games, but during the summer everything was always busy. Something about the heat brought out all the supernatural, and most of the time they missed it.

The winter games, though...those Dean had fought to make sure they never missed. When Sam had blown up about missing it for a hunt, their dad had known why, and better yet, understood. He'd left them the Impala and told them to meet up with him the next day, and the minute he'd left Sam had dragged Dean into a hug he would've denied any other time if he hadn't been as grateful as Sam.

But the Olympics were sacred events filled with peace, and as k.d. lang sang a hallelujah to the world, Dean felt almost well rested, able to breathe better than he had even a few hours before. The urge to give in to Michael seemed ridiculous, and nothing seemed more important then keeping Sam safe and happy.

It wouldn't last. Dean knew that much. But he didn't think he'd slide back to the pit of despair he'd found the night before, between Sam's fervent cries for help and Famine's dark words. As silly as it was, the opening ceremony had made him feel warm inside, feel calm and filled with peace. Almost happy.

Or maybe it was because of the little brother, currently asleep, on his shoulder.

He smiled down at the messy mop of hair. "Without fail," he murmured. Every time, every ceremony, his brother fell asleep just before the games actually got underway. It was just as much a part of the tradition as it was for Dean to wake him up as they ran to light the torch, then haul him off to bed after it was all said and done.

When Castiel returned a short time later, the announcers were talking animatedly about what those watching at home could look forward to in the upcoming days. The Olympic fire was lit in the middle of the stadium, and both brothers were fast asleep on the sofa, leaning on each other, Dean's head resting just on top of Sam's. The angel watched them for a moment more, then left as quietly as he'd returned, not wanting to disturb their moment of peace.

END


End file.
